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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271228">paint the kitchen neon (brighten up the sky)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceCasch/pseuds/AliceCasch'>AliceCasch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>just like a folk song (our love will be passed on) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Hurt Peter Parker, Protective Michelle Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:54:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceCasch/pseuds/AliceCasch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A while means four days. 96 hours. 5760 minutes that Peter spends in the MedBay, his body peaceful and unmoving. Michelle stays at the Tower and she keeps busy because washing the dishes is an excellent way to forget about the rest of the world and pretend that it isn’t real.<br/>***<br/>or, Peter has an accident. Michelle is worried.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michelle Jones/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>just like a folk song (our love will be passed on) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>paint the kitchen neon (brighten up the sky)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/gifts">blondsak</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy (very very very late) birthday blondsak! I hope you enjoy this and have an amazing day&lt;3</p>
<p>This fic was based on and inspired by Soon You'll Get Better, Taylor Swift, off her album "Lover"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a clichè, really.</p>
<p>A stressful situation leads to a breaking point, people argue, doors slam, someone leaves and it’s raining but they do not care because they’re still fuming, and then something bad happens. Maybe they start driving and their grip on the steering wheel is too tight and they’re watching the road but they’re <em>not seeing it </em>and cars pass by and the rain taps on the windshield and— it’s too much. They do not see the red lights. The other car can’t slam the brakes fast enough. Maybe they aren’t driving (they know what happens if you drive and you aren’t perfectly lucid): maybe they’re just walking briskly down the sidewalk, rain mixing with angry, unwanted tears, and each time their heel hits the ground another worry, another snide remark, another shouted accusation leaves their body; maybe at one point they need to cross the street, and the crosswalk is one too many feet away and cars never pass here, it’s not like they’ll start now anyway; maybe they’re so caught up in their head that they don’t immediately hear the horn honking. By the time they do, it’s already too late. They stop like a deer in headlights. They see the car approaching, the engine roaring like a monster, and they try to brace for the impact. They <em>try</em>. They can’t. No one could ever brace for something like this.</p>
<p>We all know what happens next. Crying, pain, immense guilt. Black dresses. Wilted flowers on a marble tombstone. Quiet conversations, unfillable silences. Small, teary smiles. And someday, a laugh. A splash of yellow paint on a black wall. A blooming daisy. A new beginning. We’ve seen this in countless movies, read it in dog-eared books. It’s a clichè.</p>
<p>The tricky thing about clichès is that you never think they’d happen to you.</p><hr/>
<p>Peter doesn’t even wince when he slams the door behind him. He flies down the stairs, not seeing where he’s going. He relies on his senses to stay upright and he <em>runs. </em>He doesn’t know where his feet are taking him, doesn’t have a destination. It doesn’t matter. He needs to get away. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Except it doesn’t work that way: Michelle’s face is burned into his brain. Her brown eyes, usually warm and sparkling with mirth, are hard and unforgiving. Her lips pressed together, impossibly thin. <em>“Get out, Peter."</em>Her voice didn’t waver, no, but Peter saw her hand tremble slightly as she formed the words. So he does. He gets out.</p>
<p>Peter knows he’s right. He also knows it was mostly his fault. First, it had been a comment over a hot cup of coffee in the morning.</p>
<p>“Be careful tonight, Em”, he’d said.</p>
<p>“Always”, Michelle answered, not frustrated because she saw the way Peter bit his lower lip and tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. She caught the slight pleading in those four words.</p>
<p>He hummed in response, trying to silence the panicked voice screaming in his head. <em>MJ can handle herself just fine, </em>he thought. He knew it was true. Guilt plagued him nonetheless.</p>
<p>Then, some dude dressed as a lizard (who went by the name “The Lizard”— very creative, if you asked Peter) decided it would be a good idea to wreak havoc in New York’s sewer system. Which was gross enough on its own. Add in the fact that Peter and Michelle were out on their first date in months and it became decidedly not ideal. Spider-Man had been handling it pretty well, all things considered. Lizard-guy was down after a hard blow to the stomach. The superhero swung back a few feet to catch his breath before webbing him up.</p>
<p>Overall, Peter rated it a solid seven point five out of ten in the scale of Terrible, No Good Things that happened to him. He’d had worse.</p>
<p>So of course the guy had to go big and make it a ten.</p>
<p>Peter didn’t even know how it happened. Maybe he’d been too slow, or the guy had some sort of ability to teleport and he hadn’t noticed. Maybe the Lizard was smarter than he seemed. Maybe, Michelle was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But when Peter turned around, it was like all his worst fears had come true. He was living in a nightmare.</p>
<p>Because the Lizard was there, and he was dangling a screaming Michelle by her right foot as if she was some kind of trophy. A strangled scream escaped Peter’s lips. He dropped to his knees, every single one of his cuts and bruises stinging and hurting like hell. He exhaled softly.</p>
<p>“Spider-Man!"Michelle screamed, somehow managing to be louder than the lizard-guy’s roars.</p>
<p>Like a golden blade parting the mist, MJ’s alarmed voice cut through Peter’s panic-induced haze. Peter snapped his head up and started running towards her. He fired one web after the other, aiming at the Lizard’s upper body to ensure that he wouldn’t crush Michelle as he fell to the ground. As he got closer, a plan started forming in his head.</p>
<p>“Ma’am!”, he called, waiting for Michelle’s eyes to meet his, “brace for the impact!”. He saw Michelle’s brow furrow in confusion, but before she could say anything he fired three webs at the Lizard’s hand and two at his chest for good measure. The guy stumbled and he fell down, simultaneously releasing MJ. Peter saw her fall in slow motion, her brown forming a halo around her. Quickly, he fired a web at a streetlight behind him and one at her back, pulling her towards him. Michelle crashed against his chest and he hugged her tightly. He could feel her heart racing. At that moment, he swore a more beautiful sound did not exist.</p>
<p>“You’re ok,” he whispered in her ear. Michelle nodded, still too shocked to speak.</p>
<p>A faint groan came from the Lizard, and Peter promptly sent a web to cover his mouth. “Just shut up, man,"he said, deadpan. Michelle chuckled lightly. As bystanders started to clap and his adrenaline wore off, guilt and worry pooled in Peter’s stomach. If Michelle hadn’t been with him, she’d have never been in danger. And yes, she was there in his arms and breathing and safe, but a voice in his head kept telling him it was <em>his </em>fault an outcome where none of those things was true was even a possibility. But then Peter glanced at Michelle’s frowning face, at her almost-parted lips, and he could already hear the soft-spoken “is everything alright, Peter?”, and he decided that for tonight he’d worried enough. Like one might do with a sandwich, he smushed down his anxiety and put Michelle down before swinging home.</p>
<p>Turns out, Peter’s anxiety behaves more like a bad dog than Delmar’s number five with pickles, because it did <em>not </em>stay down. If anything, it got worse. Over the course of the next week, his worries grew, each of them taking its place in the bags under Peter’s eyes. He went on patrol, but not even that could bring him peace: every time he rescued someone, Michelle’s face overlapped their panicked expressions, and no matter what he told himself he couldn’t make it go away. So he went home and he hugged Michelle a little bit tighter, pretending not to see the worried looks she sent him when she pulled away, pretending not to notice when MJ bit her tongue and let it go.</p>
<p>But Michelle can’t let it go for long. One day, after dinner, she stops him at the kitchen table and asks him something. What’s wrong, probably. Peter doesn’t really know. What matters is that a dam inside him breaks, and every single worry he’s hidden for days comes up with the force of a raging river. He talks for who-knows-how-long, but when he stops it’s because he needs to breathe and his throat feels raspy. Michelle stays silent, takes his hand and squeezes it once. She tucks a stray curl behind her ear. And at that moment, Peter sends everything downhill. He doesn’t remember his exact words. He remembers Michelle’s sharp gasp as she processes what he says, remembers the cold on his hand when she untangles their fingers. He remembers his senses going haywire because <em>this came out wrong it’s not how it was supposed to go— </em></p>
<p>He remembers his voice, frantic, trembling, pleading as he says, “Em, <em>wait—”</em></p>
<p>Better than everything else, he remembers Michelle’s answer. “I need to— I need to be alone for a while. Please get out.”And then more forcefully, as she sees him linger on the doorstep. “I said <em>get out, Peter</em>.”A part of him wants to argue, to stay. But then he looks at her, <em>really </em>looks at her. He notices the way her eyes are shining, her unclenched hand trembling. And he does.</p><hr/>
<p>Peter’s walking, he’s caught up in his own thoughts. His mind racing, he’s trying to come up with a way to explain his situation to Aunt May. He knows it’s stupid: May has known him forever and in most cases, she knew how to untangle the hank of his thoughts before he could even put a name on what he was feeling. And yet, this feels...different. Perhaps it’s because Michelle’s involved, but then again, May’s always given him excellent advice. But if it’s not that, then… As if someone pressed the button of Intelligent Thoughts, Peter has a sudden realization. His cheeks redden with shame, and he’s suddenly glad the air is cold tonight. Deep down, he already knows what May will tell him. <em>Peter, baby, you know I love you, but you </em>can <em>be a bit overprotective. Michelle’s right, and you have to apologise. </em>Technically speaking, he <em>could </em>go back to the apartment and apologise. Michelle might give him the cold shoulder for a while, but she’d be able to tell he was honest and she’d forgive him eventually. Peter just doesn’t feel ready yet. It’s not that he doesn’t know what to say—he has the words right there on the tip of his tongue. He needs someone to help him make sense of the mess inside his head, and May’s the perfect person to do that. She’s been there from day one, after all. Peter slips a hand in his back pocket and takes out his phone. As he’s checking the time, he wonders fleetingly how Ned’s doing. He’s in the Philippines now, at a family gathering he’s been looking forward to for weeks. Smiling at the thought of him with his little cousins, he opens his contact and types out a message.</p>
<p><strong>10.59 PM: </strong>hey man. have rey and ale managed to kill you yet?</p>
<p>Peter crosses the street. Or, well, that's what he tries to do. He walks with his head down, still looking at his phone. He doesn't notice that the light is red. He doesn't notice the car coming towards him, headlights gleaming in the night. He doesn't hear the tires screeching, doesn't hear the honk, the driver's muffled swears as they slam the breaks. Afterwards, he'll wonder why his spidey-sense didn't warn him. He'll play a thousand different versions of those two damned minutes in his mind, analyzing and getting to know each what-if like the inside pockets of his favourite jacket. But right now there’s not much thinking to do. He can only lift his head at the wrong moment. His eyes widen almost comically. Time freezes. Peter sees the car getting nearer and nearer, his blood running cold as he realizes what's about to happen. He looks to the other side of the road and instantly knows that even if he were to jump or use his powers, he wouldn't make it unscathed. Oddly enough, this fact doesn't faze him. The smell of the car's engine, pungent and heavy, pervades his nose and makes his eyes water. They say that when you're about to die your life flashes before your eyes. That's not what happens to Peter. Later, MJ will tell him that it was Parker Luck taking one last jab at him before the grand finale. It’s terribly ironic: what he thinks of is that subreddit that goes, “people who were about to die but didn't, what were your last thoughts?”, and he wonders if “I thought of this subreddit” would be an acceptable answer.</p>
<p>Then, the car hits him in full force, and the impact leaves Peter breathless. His body is sent flying backwards and he hits his head on the tarmac. There’s a disgusting wet noise, and Peter feels something warm trickle next to his ear. He thinks it might be blood. Something in Peter is screaming at him to react, to stay awake. He tries, he really does, but everything <em>hurts </em>and that voice in him is muffled as if it’s coming from under a pad of cotton. It was a stupid idea anyway, and he’ll just rest his eyes for a minute. Then he’ll wake up. Peter’s eyelids close, and the hurt fades away. He exhales in relief. His right hand twitches, and then he lies motionless on the asphalt, his brown curls making a halo around his bloodied face.</p>
<p>As the driver gets out of his vehicle and frantically dials 911, Peter's phone flickers once, twice, his unsent message still waiting in Ned's chat, and then it goes dark.</p>
<p>Some people might find it curious, funny, even, that Spider-Man’s phone screen is cracked like a web.</p><hr/>
<p>It had been a stupid joke between the three of them. When they were still in high school they used to hang out at each other’s house. There had been a time, between January and July of their junior year, when Ned's little sister was obsessed with Doc McStuffins (yes, Michelle does know the theme song by heart and no, she won’t sing it to you unless your name is Sophia Leeds and you ask really nicely). So, when Peter, Ned and MJ decided (read: Ned and MJ forced Peter to accept) that a protocol to alert them of Spider-Man’s injuries was needed, the name wasn’t even a question. Ned, with an evil smirk that made Mysterio’s smiles pale, submitted his proposal, and the Friends of Spider-Man Executive Council voted in favour unanimously. The council was dismissed and its members ate cookies to celebrate the newfound name.</p>
<p>A few weeks later, at the hands of Ned Leeds, best friend and Guy In The Chair extraordinaire, and a bit of useful input from Tony Stark, the Big Book of Boo-Boos protocol was born.</p>
<p>At first it had seemed like a funny name, something to distract them from its meaning and keep it together enough to be useful to Peter when he needed them. Right now, it just seems childish and utterly inappropriate. What Michelle feels when she hears the first few obnoxious notes of Doc McStuffins’ theme song is a pang of guilt that causes her to stumble. She takes a deep breath and opens her phone with shaking hands, knowing that whatever will be written on the screen won’t be good. Michelle thinks she can do it. After all, she’s seen some pretty bad things in her short life.</p>
<p>Seconds later, MJ realizes she could not have been more wrong. Her eyes skim the text and she almost drops the phone. Karen's few, concise words completely destroy her.</p>
<p>
  <em>BIG BOOK OF BOO-BOOS PROTOCOL ACTIVATED. Peter’s vitals indicate a situation of distress. It appears he has been involved in a car accident. I have detected three broken ribs on his left side, a severe concussion, a torn ligament on his right knee and a fracture in his pelvis. He is breathing and medical assistance has been called. He is currently at the junction between Yellowstone Blvd and Austin St.</em>
</p>
<p>For one moment, one brief, blissful moment, Michelle wonders what Peter’s doing there, not near the Tower or May’s (or their apartment, for the matter). Then, her brain seems to register the words it just read, and every other thought disappears as if it was traced in the dirt on a windy day. Michelle’s mind goes blank. She blinks, and her eyes scan the list of seemingly never-ending injuries once more, just to make sure that this is happening, this is real, that she won’t open her eyes to find Peter sleeping peacefully next to her, finally at rest now that they’ve both apologised for the things they said earlier. She gives herself a minute of pure, unfiltered panic, and she lets out a strangled scream while tugging on the few strands of hair that have managed to escape from her messy updo. Then she breathes deeply, thinks about what she can do, and chokes back a sob—Peter always said it was scary how fast her demeanour changed when she had problems to solve. “It’s like a light switch but for genius ideas, Em,"he’d say— no, <em>says</em>, she reminds herself. He’s alive. He’s alive, lying on the asphalt at a corner street somewhere, and who knows for how long he’ll... MJ forces herself to stop thinking before her mind starts asking the wrong things. She shakes her head furiously: she won’t go there, not now. <em>Get a grip, Michelle</em> she thinks.</p>
<p>Her phone rings and she accepts the call with barely trembling fingers.</p>
<p>“Michelle—,” May starts, her voice a bit nasal.</p>
<p>“I know,” MJ interrupts bluntly.</p>
<p>“He’s at Stark Tower. Me, Pepper and Tony are already there.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”</p>
<p>“I'll come and get you,” May offers.</p>
<p>“No, no, it’s alright. I, uh, I’ll drive.” <em>I need to be alone for a while. </em>She doesn’t say it, but May understands nonetheless. She whispers a simple “see you”, and then the line goes dead.</p>
<p>Michelle doesn’t think, she just acts. She runs to her room and throws on a hoodie that had been haphazardly shoved into a closet, not even bothering to check if it’s clean. She ties her shoes (it takes her an awfully long time, and her fluttering fingers are to blame) and grabs the car keys from her desk, nearly knocking her potted succulent to the ground. Muttering a long string of profanities she gets out of the apartment. She only allows herself to breathe when her foot is on the gas pedal.</p><hr/>
<p>MJ doesn’t remember much of her drive to the Tower, except for the sharp knots her stomach seemed to be in and her clammy hands grabbing the steering wheel until they became white. She enters the building with the force of a hurricane, her legs trembling and forehead creased with worry. She thinks FRIDAY says something that sounds like “Welcome, Miss Jones”, but she wouldn’t put her finger on it. She gets in the elevator and says, “MedBay, FRIDAY”.</p>
<p>Michelle Jones isn't sure of many things, nowadays, but there's one thing she can say with absolute certainty: that ride in the elevator is the longest she's ever done. The doors open and she practically flings herself out, breath cut short by pangs of terror that pierce her stomach like dozens of sharp daggers. She runs down the corridor, her footsteps echoing. Michelle enters the MedBay and an enormous weight lifts from her chest.</p>
<p>Peter's on a white bed, and Michelle would think he was sleeping if it weren't for the oxygen mask on his face. She sees his chest rise and fall, and finally feels hers do the same. MJ’s eyes fill with tears. She notices Tony and May sitting on plastic chairs at Peter's bedside and gives them a wet smile. They can only nod at her in response, their expressions weary</p>
<p>“Michelle,”someone behind her says.</p>
<p>She jumps, and the person lightly chuckles. Michelle turns around, her cheeks tinged with red.</p>
<p>“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,”Dr Cho says. "Can you come outside for a second?"</p>
<p>Michelle feels dread pool in her stomach. The lighting outside the room is as bright and aseptic as the one you'd find in a doctor's office. She starts to squirm uncomfortably, shuffling her feet and wringing her hands. She’s scared, she realizes. Michelle wishes nothing more than to admit it to someone, but she can’t tell Helen, and there’s no one else out there with them. She stays silent.</p>
<p>“Michelle, Peter had it pretty rough tonight. I’ll be honest with you, it was touch and go for a bit, earlier. If it weren’t for his super-healing, I doubt that you’d be able to see him now."MJ’s muscles stiffen, but before she can interject, Dr Cho continues, “That...may have been the wrong thing to start with, but I think it’s better to get the bad news out of the way first.” —MJ chuckles lightly— “With his healing factor, he’ll be out for a while, and he may wake up a little disoriented, but he’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>“I can wait,” is what Michelle says, but Dr Cho hears the unspoken <em>thank you</em> loud and clear.</p><hr/>
<p>As it turns out, a while means four days. 96 hours. 5760 minutes that Peter spends in the MedBay, his body peaceful and unmoving. Michelle stays at the Tower and she keeps busy because washing the dishes is an excellent way to forget about the rest of the world and pretend that it isn’t real.</p>
<p>MJ keeps it together the first day. She watches a movie with May, helps Pepper cook and outlines the first of a long series of essays that are due next week, and suddenly the sun is down and she hasn’t shed one single tear. She goes to see Peter after dinner.</p>
<p>She enters the room, and the air gets knocked out of her lungs. She doesn’t know why she didn’t think about it earlier, but it has just occurred to her that this is the first time she’s seen Peter in a hospital bed because of a non Spider-Man related injury. It’s...weird, him being this vulnerable because of something as mundane as a car. She’s been friends with Peter for a little over seven years now, so she’s developed a thick skin to gruesome injuries. More accurately than that, she had known from the start that him getting terribly injured was a possibility, and it still hurt like hell when she went to visit him, but at least, she was prepared. Perhaps foolishly, she had never considered the fact that <em>Peter Parker</em> might get injured, and not Spider-Man. She’d always supposed his fast reflexes and heightened senses would protect him like he protected New York. Clearly, Peter is a better defender.</p>
<p>“Hey, loser.” She whispers, voice barely cracking. “You know, it’s...it’s quiet without you. Nice.” Her fingertips trace his jaw, and they linger on his right cheek for a moment. She stays there for a few more minutes, and she wants to say so much but there’s a lump in her throat and her vocal cords don’t seem to work. She slips out of the room as swiftly as she came in, giving May a small smile as she passes her in the hallway.</p>
<p>The next morning, Michelle opens her eyes, still in bed, and she just <em>knows</em> it’s not gonna be a good day. For starters, her lower abdomen hurts, and she grimaces: period cramps are the last thing she needs right now. Then she thinks of Peter. Tears immediately prickle at the corner of her eyes. She buries her face in the pillow and bites back a scream. A sharp pain cuts through her stomach like a dagger and she doesn't really know if it's because of her period or the mixture of worry, guilt and sadness that has been eating her up for the past few hours, but she finds that she doesn't particularly care. She just wants it to stop, and she turns on her back, hoping that it'll help. Her gaze fixes on the cream ceiling. She sends a quick prayer to whoever's up there, because desperate people find faith, and just in case someone's listening, it can't hurt to reach out. Michelle tries to get up; her limbs feel like lead and she flops back on the bed like a particularly uncoordinated octopus. She closes her eyes, exhales deeply, and following what has now become routine, she goes down to the MedBay.</p>
<p>“Listen, Pete. You will get better,” Michelle lightly squeezes his hand, “you will, 'cause you have to.” She lets out a wet chuckle, and it's terribly out of place, but she can't help it. “I promise, here and now, that when you wake up, I'll paint the kitchen that stupid neon green you like. Scout's honour,” she adds, half expecting to hear a petulant voice answer, “You have never been a Scout in your twenty-two years of life!”. She can't stop her heart from breaking when the room stays silent.</p>
<p>On the third day, Michelle breaks. The worst thing is, her body gives her no signals, there's no internal alarm ringing. One moment, she's laughing at the table with May, Pepper and Tony, and the next, she's excusing herself to the bathroom, eyes stinging. She flies down the stairs and goes to the MedBay, tears now flowing freely on her cheeks.</p>
<p>“It's stupid,” she growls at a silent room, “it's stupid, and cliché, and I hate that I'm making this all about me, but Pete, what…"Michelle's voice catches in her throat and she gulps, swallowing saliva that tastes like copper. “Who am I supposed to talk to, if you aren't there? What am I supposed to do?”</p>
<p>"Please wake up,"she adds shakily, “please.”</p>
<p>Peter Parker makes her wish come true at 7:59 PM of the next day. Michelle is studying in her room when May barges in, breathless and almost starstruck.</p>
<p>“It's Peter,” she says, and those two words are enough to make MJ jump as if she's been electrocuted. They run to the MedBay, and Tony's already there, quietly talking with someone. <em>Peter</em>, MJ thinks. The man nods at her, smiling a real, joyful smile, the first Michelle’s seen in days, and slips out of the room. May approaches Peter’s bed and caresses her nephew’s cheek, her eyes shining. She lingers for a moment, like she can’t quite believe he’s awake, and then she joins Tony outside. Michelle doesn’t say anything for a while, and the room is silent until MJ lets out a painful snort, as if she’s trying not to cry and being really bad at it.</p>
<p>“Em—,” Peter starts.</p>
<p>“You idiot,” MJ says. Peter laughs, but before he can reply, Michelle kisses him on the lips, hard. Their hands intertwine, and Peter cards his free one in Michelle's curls. When they break apart, gasping for air, Michelle repeats, "You're an absolute moron."</p>
<p>“I'm...sorry?” Peter replies sheepishly.</p>
<p>“I'm sorry too,” Michelle says, and then, with an amused glint in her eye, “You're still an idiot, though.”</p>
<p>Peter laughs. “I love you.”</p>
<p>“Don't you ever do that to me again, Parker.”</p>
<p>In response, he pulls her closer to him and kisses her, more tenderly than before. Michelle smiles and mouths an “I love you too” against his lips.</p>
<p>Peter will fall asleep shortly after, and Michelle will bring down a book and sit next to him, reading and occasionally smiling softly as she looks at the dumbass sleeping in front of her. She’ll realize that things like this will happen, and she’ll know that with Peter at her side she’ll be able to face them.</p>
<p>But right now, Peter is wide awake. “So, Em, when are we buying the paint?”</p>
<p>Michelle gives him the middle finger in response.</p>
<p>“Where’s your scout’s honour now, huh?” Peter asks, smiling.</p>
<p>Michelle lets down her messy bun and flicks her hair tie at him.</p>
<p>Peter laughs, and MJ joins him. She knows that Peter will get hurt again. She also knows that he’ll get better. He has to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for sticking with me 'till the end. If you want, you can scream at me down below, comments and kudos always make my day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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